


Masquerade

by mjartrod



Category: Muse
Genre: Belldom - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1454566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjartrod/pseuds/mjartrod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Venice and romance: truth or myth? Or neither?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> This story was first posted online in March 2010.   
> Sex. Slash. And cheesy fluff. Or, at least, the fluffiest I can write...

  
Matt slurped on his sake and Dom turned away from the view of the canal to face him, a sarcastic remark ready to roll off his tongue at the loud noise that had disturbed their quiet dinner and the drummer’s peaceful state of mind. But he couldn’t help but remain silent, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips instead as his grey eyes, drowsy with sake, fell on Matt’s form. He was sitting cross legged on the red carpeted floor, opposite Dom, back against the frame of the tall double doors that were open to the narrow balcony of their hotel room in Venice. Placing his cup on the floor next to the small dipping bowl of soy sauce, he stared outside to the canal three storeys below, just like Dom had been doing, his chopsticks randomly playing with his food.   
  
Dom’s smile widened and his shoulders shook, head hanging forward, as he released a small snort.   
  
Matt looked at him in surprise, blinking as he chewed another sushi roll. “What? What’re you laughing about?”  
  
Dom leaned his head back against the wood of the doorframe, still grinning, shaking his head slightly as he used his own chopsticks to perform a simple drumbeat on his jean-clad thigh. “Nothing.”  
  
“Nothing?” Matt narrowed his eyes, pointing his chopsticks at the drummer accusingly. “You’re looking at me and laughing. What is it, you wanker? Do I have something on my mouth?” He put his take-away box of sushi down and started wiping at his face frantically with a paper napkin, glancing suspiciously at Dom, who only grinned wider.  
  
He was too full to fight Matt off if he was tackled and was enjoying his state of relaxation too much to let it be spoiled by Matt’s incessant questioning, pestering for an answer. So he got on his knees, crawled the short distance between the two of them and tilted his head, reaching for Matt’s mouth, lips brushing in a soft kiss. Pulling away silently, he then sat back against the doorframe, resuming his previous position.   
  
“Nope, your mouth looks fine to me.”   
  
Matt pursed his lips, blue eyes opening lazily to look back at him, the tiny flush that crept up his neck not going unnoticed by Dom. He quietly grabbed his nearly empty take-away box again, this time selecting some salmon sashimi and wolfing it down.   
  
“Only you would come to Venice and pick Japanese take-away over some nicely cooked Italian or the hotel’s restaurant menu.” Dom finally said and Matt stopped, shrugging when he understood the source of Dom’s amusement.   
  
“I’m in a Japanese phase,” he simply said. “And obviously I’m not the only person who eats Japanese in Venice or there wouldn’t be so many sushi bars.” He punctuated the statement by crushing the napkin into a small ball of paper. “And if you got to pick the destination then I can choose the food.”  
  
“You make it sound like Venice was really a matter of choice. And besides, you’re only here because  _I_ invited you.”  
  
“Ha. You’d be bored half to death by yourself. I came to do you a favour,” Matt smirked, finishing his meal by finally tossing the napkin at Dom and hitting him on the forehead.   
  
They both knew Matt’s words weren’t true.   
  
Dom had had a trip booked to spend the Carnival in Venice for nearly a year; but in a year much had changed. And it had only been the previous month, while touring Australia, that he was reminded of the plans he had made so long ago, of the trip to Venice that he and his ex-girlfriend had arranged together.   
  
“So you owe me.” Matt drank the remaining sake in his cup and then started sliding his back down the doorframe, legs stretching out alongside Dom’s in the opposite direction. “You know I hate Venice, it stinks.”  
  
“ _You_ stink and I’ve still had to put up with you for most of my life,” he drawled, noticing the boneless body that had been stretching languidly tensing at the jab.   
  
Matt arched one eyebrow at him imperiously before lifting one arm and sniffing his armpit.  
  
“For your information, I do  _not_ stink. I smell of roses. But if you’re so fucking bothered by my scent I can always go find somewhere else to sleep.” And he retreated from Dom’s space, limbs no longer in contact, just crossing his legs at the ankles.  
  
Dom smiled cheekily at Matt’s feigned offended pout. “Well, we’re only staying one more night, I suppose I can make the sacrifice.”   
  
“Wonder how the cleaning lady feels about that,” Matt cackled and Dom instantly joined him, both reminded of the morning of the previous day.   
  
Their ‘do not disturb’ sign had been erroneously placed on the door handle on the inside and neither of them had heard the knock on the door that had come far too early in the morning. They did hear the shrilly female scream, though. Clearly the woman wasn't expecting to find two naked men in the same bed, tangled luxurious sheets barely covering their bodies. Apologising hurriedly in a mix of Italian and English before spinning on her heels, she left them both groggy eyed and baffled at what had just happened. Only when the door shut and after exchanging a look did they explode in a fit of hysterical laughter.  
  
It was now Monday, Carnival night, and drooping in a comfortable silence once more, both watched the street below through the balcony’s metallic bars, people waltzing by in masks and outlandish costumes on the sidewalk along the canal. The location of the hotel was almost perfect - in Riva degli Schiavoni, facing the water front - one of the epicentres of the festivities. Their suite overlooked one of the parallel streets, though, which allowed them to benefit from a privileged view but also provided them some more privacy.   
  
“Should’ve gotten some proper costumes. Buy some masks, hang around with the crowd...” Matt trailed off, a longing expression on his face as he observed the passersby below.  
  
“But you’ve just reminded me how much you dislike Venice.”  
  
“Doesn’t mean that the only thing I want to see here is the bloody ceiling of the bedroom.”  
  
Dom sniggered. “It is a lovely ceiling, you must admit.” Matt turned to face the blond again and they locked eyes, matching mischievous smirks across their faces.  
  
It was a fact that they had spent most of their time locked in the bedroom and for the first two days they had only left for meals. The reason for this, though, had very little to do with the ostentatious decoration of the room in tones of red, the precious wall fabric or the curtains and drapery in typical Venetian style. But they could both attest that the four poster bed was definitely very comfortable and alluring...  
  
When they had at last ventured out of the warmth of the suite and into the cold city to do some sightseeing, they realised they had ended up spending most of the time at bars drinking. The night before they had gotten so trashed (eventually getting lost several times on the way back to the hotel) that they had slept for most of the day, going out only for a short walk after the sun set and bringing sushi back with them to satisfy Matt’s whim.   
  
“We can still go out if you want to,” Dom offered with a shrug of his shoulders. “Not even midnight.”  
  
“Nah, can’t be bothered now.” Matt yawned and stretched again, legs bumping against Dom’s, muttering a curse when he nearly tipped over the dipping bowl of soy sauce onto the carpet. “Go get us that bottle of red wine we bought yesterday.”  
  
“We drank it.” Dom casually replied while he placed his feet between Matt’s legs to slide them apart, the singer tossing a dismayed ‘fuck off’ as he bent his knees to allow the drummer’s legs to slip underneath. “Not my fault you were too pissed to remember to save that one for later.”   
  
He crossed his arms in front of his chest. It was getting chilly now. It had been a good idea to leave the double doors to the balcony open as they both slouched on the floor eating dinner while looking outside, the room had felt too stuffy anyway. But it was February and his slinky long-sleeved leopard print shirt over a t-shirt didn’t cut it. Matt wasn’t much better, in his cerulean jumper.  
  
“Remember that film we saw awhile ago?” Matt was rubbing his eyes. “That boring one that you made me watch with Christopher Walken? With the psycho couple in Venice?”  
  
“ _That I made you watch?_ ” Dom snorted. “I don’t make people watch anything, unlike a pestering little tosser I know, but yeah, I guess I know what film you’re talking about. What about it?”  
  
“It was shit, much like all the films you like anyway, but that one made me think of something.” He ignored Dom’s small groan, swaying his knees. “D’you think all these houses and palazzos and whatever have like, crooked hidden caves with, you know, loads of pervy toys and S&M machines?” And his blue eyes gained a decided twinkle that wasn’t there before. “I do.”  
  
“Of course. And these people invite gullible short arses into their houses so they can fuck around with them, use them for their fantasies and then kill them to get off on it.”  
  
“Don’t be an idiot.” Matt disentangled his legs from Dom’s and sat up straighter. “I’m very serious. You hear all this bollocks about Venice being so romantic and all that poncy shit and then whenever you come ‘round it’s all dark and dirty, with all the dodgy alleys... I think it’s the dark vibe that attracts people to this place and makes them fuck like rabbits. All sodding problems are solved and then they go home and say it’s the motherfucking romance.”  
  
Dom stared silently at Matt for a few seconds before he started laughing, the singer bursting into giggles after him. “Oh God,” Dom leaned his head back dramatically and closed his eyes, still chuckling.   
  
When he looked back at him again, Matt was staring outside, both hands fidgeting in his lap.   
  
“We should stay here for longer,” he suggested quietly. “What d’you reckon? We skip the Brits tomorrow, let Chris handle the tossers. Waste of time, we didn’t win anything.”  
  
“Yeah but we confirmed our presence. And Chris would have our heads on a silver plate if we stood him up,” Dom reluctantly reasoned.   
  
He certainly didn’t feel like leaving the following day either. Dom liked award ceremonies. Collecting gongs and some more pats on the back was cool (always good to rub it in the faces of everyone who constantly underestimated them, too), not to mention all the free booze, seeing old mates... But he wouldn’t swap that for another night sitting on that balcony with Matt. No schedules, no obligations, no pretending... Just the freedom of being there together. He looked at his... band mate? Friend? Boyfriend? In his head he never knew what to call him. It was just Matt. Bright eyes shimmering in the moonlight, messy brown hair, a tad too long for his taste... Despite shaving properly that evening and getting rid of that silly bumfluff beard, he still had that odd rough look from too much alcohol the night before and not enough sleep. That long-sleeved cerulean sweater had also seen better days. But to Dom he looked good.  
  
He had barely realised how Matt was now returning the stare, their legs entwined again, both so relaxed, so... he felt a clench in his heart, warmth spreading inside him.   
  
“That’s the second time I catch you gawking tonight.” Matt’s jerky tone cut through his thoughts. “What is it now?”  
  
“I’m thinking...” and he paused, smiling at the way Matt arched his eyebrows, at his complete inability to sit still for too long. And then he didn’t like it when Dom laughed in disbelief at his ramblings about the joys of living in the country, peace and quiet abounding. “You know what I‘m thinking? I’m thinking about that film,  _The Comfort of Strangers_ ,” he pronounced slowly and pointedly, making sure Matt got the title. “Just thinking about what I liked the most in that film. About ideas it gave me.”   
  
Matt’s head leaned back on the doorframe, eyebrows furrowing in curiosity. “Oh really?”   
  
This could be fun. “About things I’d like to do to you.” His voice dropped and he caught the singer swallowing, the dark shade crossing his eyes spurring him on.   
  
“And what is it that you’d like to do to me, Dom?” He said thickly, rubbing his stomach, eyelids drooping indolently.  
  
“I’d take you to someone’s house, here in Venice. And then inside...” For a moment he found himself transfixed with Matt’s hand on his stomach, slender fingers scratching at the cloth of the jumper. “There’s this large table in there. I’d take your clothes off and strap you down to it...” Matt twitched on the floor and Dom suppressed a smug grin at how once more he'd guessed what the right buttons to push were. “We’re surrounded by people in masks, but they’re not doing anything. Just there as an audience.” And at this Matt groaned softly. “And then... then I’d let you choose: that Murano glass dildo we bought or... a whip.”  
  
Matt bent one knee, one hand sliding between his legs to rest on the inside of his thigh, a twisted little smile sneaking onto his lips. “You know I’d pick the whip... but you wouldn’t do it, would you. You’d want the dildo...”  
  
“Nah....” He crawled to Matt, revelling in the more perceptible rise and fall of his chest. “What I’d really do would be to set one of those machines on the table... one of those fucking machines.” Their noses were touching, Dom breathing against Matt’s mouth as he spoke. “... and then I’d watch.”  
  
Capturing his thin bottom lip at Matt’s light gasp, he sucked gently on the rosy tender flesh before pulling away. But the tense hand gripping him firmly by the back of his neck didn’t let him move much further.  
  
“Come here...” Matt breathed.  
  
And he was sitting up straighter, tilting up his head and reaching for Dom’s mouth, kissing him deeply. His fingers tightened around Dom’s arms and as his legs stretched out on the floor, the drummer adjusted himself to sit astride Matt’s thighs, cupping his face in his hands. Lips fusing, tongues melting on each other’s, heat growing as they kissed, Dom’s hands stroking his neck while Matt’s arms wrapped around his waist and long fingers slipped underneath his clothing. The soy sauce was dripping from the bowl onto the carpet, the remnants of their dinner unceremoniously forgotten.   
  
“You’re so easy to turn on...” Dom teased.  
  
“You calling me a slag...?”   
  
Matt’s voice was a rasp as the drummer moved his lips to that spot on his neck, where he could feel his pulse, racing. The blond’s skilled fingers were on Matt’s fly and the singer started shifting on the floor, leaning down on his back. Pulling Dom with him, on top of him, his upper body was soon flat on the freezing mosaic floor of the balcony while the lower half still lay sprawled on the red carpet of the bedroom. He lifted his hips to press up against the body above and Dom started moving down, chin sliding on Matt’s chest as he went, amused by Matt’s quiet sigh as he stared at the Italian sky.  
  
“No bedroom ceiling for you tonight, then?”  
  
Matt glanced down at the glinting grey eyes and lewd smile and playfully bit his lip as the drummer quickly undid his trousers.  
  
Smiling as pink boxers were uncovered, Dom slid them down to expose the half hard cock erected in the dark curls of hair. He grabbed it, letting a gob of saliva drip to the shaft before stroking it a few times up and down, his eyes shooting up when Matt hissed loudly - he was rubbing the back of his head on the balcony floor, one desperate hand grasping Dom’s hair and attempting to pull him closer to his crotch.   
  
Dom blew hot air on the flushed flesh, his hand slowly working him, and to Matt’s satisfaction he finally flattened his tongue on the shaft, a few slow licks upwards, smirking at the low groan he heard before planting open mouthed, wet kisses up and down the length. He went lower, holding Matt’s cock down against his stomach while he teased his balls, the other man’s slim hips twitching beneath him. When he moved up again, he realised Matt was propping himself up on his elbows to watch, lips parted at the sight. So he made sure he could see him well when he slowly closed his mouth over the head, tongue rolling across the slit, and then slid down further to take him in.   
  
When he looked up to Matt, a sleazy glint in his eyes as his cheeks hollowed as he sucked, Matt’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he flopped down again as the blond head gleefully bobbed on his cock.   
  
“Dom...” the sultry tone that reached Dom’s ears and the fingers that fastened on his locks made his trousers seem tighter. But then there was a light giggle and the drummer slowed his movements. “Dom, there’s... there’s someone... someone down there in a Spiderman costume...”  
  
Slowly withdrawing and pausing in perplexity for a moment on his heels, Dom crawled forwards until his body covered Matt’s completely. The pouty, whiny expression on the singer’s face was priceless.  
  
“What’re you doing... you’re not stopping now.”   
  
“Hmmm, I don’t know...” He could feel Matt’s eyes on his still moist lips. “I’m sucking you off and you’re commenting on people’s clothes outside. Tut tut.”  
  
“What! Dom...” Raising his hips to rub himself on Dom’s body, the friction caused by the rough fabric on his cock making Matt moan in relief. “Don’t be a tit...”  
  
“I can think of other things to do if you’re not  _that_ interested in my services.”   
  
“No,” he grabbed Dom’s shoulders, trying to force him backwards. “You’re gonna finish what you started...”   
  
But the drummer only grinned, showing off his teeth, using his knee to push Matt’s trousers further down his legs. “I don’t think so.”   
  
Dom could see the determination forming in Matt’s face, the lusty fog evaporating, and then there was a rumble of kicking limbs and muffled giggles as they rolled around on the floor and fought. Struggling to sit on Dom’s chest with the trousers around his hips hindering his movements and the drummer squirming underneath, Matt eventually managed to hold his wrists against the metallic bars of the balcony and pin Dom down on the mosaic floor.   
  
“Alright, Matt, you win.” He conceded, enjoying the devilish look on Matt’s face. “Now, if you can only sit on top of me just a little lower and then-“  
  
Matt laughed again, his thighs now clamping around the slim torso. “I don’t think so. You’re gonna finish what you started.” And he started inching his way up to Dom’s face, eyes growing darker again. “And you’re gonna do it like this.”  
  
Dom didn’t struggle, nor did he have any intention to. As Matt’s cock came nearer, tip rubbing on his chin, he snaked his tongue out to reach for the slit before taking him inside again, as much as he could in that position. Voice hitching in his throat, Matt closed his eyes and he was soon releasing Dom’s arms to grab onto the bars himself, hands curling tightly around the metal. The drummer was quick to grab his arse cheeks, using the leverage to take him deeper in his mouth and Matt rose to his knees, trying to settle on a rhythm as he thrust his hips.  
  
“Dom... Dom, if they look up they can see us...”  
  
Dom’s hands clutched him more possessively, fingers slipping in the sweaty skin on the inside of his thighs and, mind reeling, Matt gasped when he felt a finger teasing his opening in circles and then pushing in. He was panting now, shoving himself into Dom’s wet, hot mouth, full lips locked deliciously around his cock. A second digit began slipping inside him, fingering him at the rhythm he was being sucked.  
  
“Oh shit... shit, shit, I’m...” He moaned loudly, taking one hand to the back of Dom’s head to keep him in place, the drummer threatening to slacken his grip on him. “Fuck, stay there... fucking...”  
  
A couple more hard thrusts, fingers inside him pressing so good and he clamped his eyes shut, fisting Dom’s hair until he was done. Hot hands landing now on his hips as he was released altogether, he saw Dom through half closed lids turning to the side, coughing a little, spitting feebly to the floor. He wiped his mouth and chin and then rested his head on the floor with his eyes closed, breathing hard.   
  
Crawling back clumsily when he felt Dom’s hands on his hips pressing down, Matt dropped on top of the fully clothed body below. The drummer took hold of his face though and lifted his head to meet his mouth. The kiss was lazy, warm, Dom’s thumb on his cheek mirroring the way his tongue softly stroked Matt's, making him weak at the knees. He broke away, ignoring Dom’s soft protest, and let his forehead rest on the cool floor next to the other man’s head. He took a deep breath – he could smell Dom’s hair even in that position. He smelled like... he smelled like Dom always did, no matter what gay products he insisted on using on his hair, regardless of wherever in the world they were or if they were soaked in sweat after a gig or a mind-blowing shag.   
  
“Hmmm...” Dom wrapped his arms around Matt, pulling up his trousers before letting his hands settle on his lower back. “So did you catch anyone looking up..?”  
  
“Not sure. Why don’t we wait up a bit and then do it again so I can check?”  
  
“Have a better idea. We switch positions,” he flipped them over before Matt had time to react and rolled his crotch down on the singer’s. “My turn and then I’ll have a-“  
  
“No. Not now.”   
  
“You’re such a...” Words failed Dom as slender arms circled his neck to bring him lower and he took a deep breath and let his body relax. He could swear he felt Matt sniffing him before burying his nose in his shoulder.   
  
“You sure we drank that bottle last night?”  
  
“Yes, Matt. I am sure.”  
  
Thundering noise above their heads made Dom’s eyes shoot up and Matt snap his head around, hands flying off Dom’s body as if scalded.   
  
“Fireworks, look.” The drummer pointed in the direction of the cuppola of St. Marks and to the sparkly sky. Matt rolled to his side, bumping Dom off him, and shielded his eyes with one hand as he looked up to take in the view.   
  
There were innumerable spots of light filling the sky above them, serpentines and stars of flame and colour painting the night and lighting the whole of Venice. Mixed with the explosives booming above was the sound of music echoing somewhere, of excited voices exclaiming at a distance.  
  
Dom put his chin on Matt’s shoulder from behind, the brunet resting his head back on his shoulder in return. “Venice isn’t so bad, is it?”  
  
There was a pause before Matt replied softly.   
  
“It’s okay, sometimes.”


End file.
